I'm Not Emotionless
by xXCarlaLouiseXx
Summary: If anything, I feel too much. Crenny. One-shot.


**A/N: I did this because a lot of authors -including myself- write Craig as quite a cold and sometimes mean character. Then the other day I realised that he isn't really 'emotionless', he just hides his emotions really well. I've done that before, a lot of people have. You know, the kind of thing where instead of frowning you fake being tired -or in Craig's case bored- so that you don't have people constantly asking if you're ok, or what's wrong. Yeah, but that's just me, feel free to disagree if you want because I tend to read into things too much. Also I wanted to write some Crenny : ) .**

**Btw, I'm not emo or anything, but this fic is kind of depressing and someone on DA asked if I was so I thought I'd clear that up now.**

**I do not own South Park.**

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_I'm not emotionless._

_I don't lack feelings._

_If anything I have too many._

_Just thought I'd clear that up with everyone because when, or if, anyone realizes I'm gone they're going to want answers. All I'm saying is, you're all going to regret calling me cold and emotionless._

_Craig Tucker._

I place the poor excuse for a suicide note on the fresh snow next to me as I kneel on the cold, wet ground. Taking a deep breath, I stare into the black, inky depths of Stark's Pond. In a few minutes my body will be in there and my soul will be somewhere else. Where exactly? I don't know, but anywhere is better than here.

I'm fed up of being glared at, frowned upon and whispered about by people who never really knew me...

... and now they never will.

All I ever get is "There's that Tucker kid, he's got problems," or "Doesn't that boy ever smile?" and most recently "I'm -nngh- sorry Craig, I can't be your friend anymore. M-my parents think you're a bad influence." That last one hurt the most, like re-opening a wound that had only just begun to heal.

But the truth is, I'm not emotionless. I just have so many conflicting emotions inside of me that I never know which one to show on the outside. In my opinion Tweek has it easy. Sure, fear and paranoia are his constant companions, but at least he only has them feelings to deal with, and no one will ever accuse him of not feeling at all. My head is constantly locked in a battle between happy and sad, angry and afraid... surrounded and alone.

I'm not emotionless, just expressionless.

The problem with people in this town is that they often don't look past outter appearances -esspecially the adults-, they just automatically judge. So once you have a reputation in South Park it's pretty much impossible to lose or change it. What they don't realize is that I'm a person just like them, it does hurt when they imply that I'm some kind of heartless monster. It's agonisingly painfull to hear nothing, but criticism from everyone, even my own familly, but they think it's ok to keep on whispering about me because apparently "I feel nothing".

The people of this crapy, little town in the middle of nowhere have always been majorly inconsiderate. I don't even expect anyone to care when they find out I'm dead.

So as I edge closer and closer to the icy liquid, within dangerous proximity to my watery grave, I'm more than surprised to feel a strong hand clasped around my shoulder. "You don't wanna do that Craig," a familiar and slightly saddened voice scolds. "It's not easy or painless, trust me."

"What do you know?" I snap, turning my head momentarily and catching a flash of orange. "Just leave me alone McCormick, I have things to do."

Kenny lets out a loud sigh and takes a seat in the snow behind me, his hand still placed on my shoulder, as if he's afraid what will happen if he lets go. "What? Like drown in a pond full of ice?" he questions.

"Yeah, got a problem with that?" I respond, flipping him off halfheartedly.

"No," Kenny answers, confusing me a little as his hand falls away from my shoulder. "Go ahead. If that's really what you wanna do. I'm not gonna try and stop you." But as I stare at the pond's shiny surface he interrupts my thoughts "Although I was under the impression that Craig Tucker wasn't a quitter."

I frowned -barely noticably- in irritation "I'm not quitting, I'm just-"

"Giving up," Kenny cuts in. "Same difference."

"Why do you even care?" I inquire, my eyes never leaving the water.

"Because like it or not, and believe it or not, I think of you as a friend. So it's kind of in my job description to care about you," he explains. "Besides, where you are right now... I've been there," he adds, his gaze burning into the back of my head. "Let me guess. You're thinking that this is the easiest way to escape, that in a few seconds all of this crap won't matter anymore. Am I right?"

"I guess," I mumble in response.

"Well then, you're wrong," he states. "Suicide doesn't get rid of the pain, it only creates more. It's nowhere near quick and easy either. I mean, do you really wanna burn in hell for the rest of eternity?"

"At least I'll be warm there," I shrug. "It's better than waking up with icicles hanging from my nose every morning."

Before I even have a chance to react a pair of warm, soft arms wrap around me and I'm pulled backwards into Kenny's chest. I try to struggle free, but he's already zipped me into his slightly worn, but oddly comforting orange parka with him. It's a wonder that this is big enough for the both of us, we're both kind of skinny though I guess, for our own different reasons. "Better?" he whispers, his chapped lips brushing against my ear and causing me to shiver involuntarily.

"Gayer," I correct in my usual deadpan voice. Although the fact that I'm leaning into him and letting my head rest against his totally betrays me. He chuckles and I suddenly feel the need to ask "So, you've tried to kill yourself?"

"Yeah," he replies, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I was successful a couple of times too." I roll my eyes at the comment, elbowing him in the ribs. "Oww!" he yells. "What was that for?"

"You don't joke about things like that dude," I scold. "It isn't funny."

He remains silent for a while, before finally letting out a sigh of defeat. "You're right, I'm sorry," he mutters. Then his grip on me tightens "So are you gonna tell me what this is about? Or would you prefer to keep on acting like Stan during one of his goth phazes?"

My gaze travells to our overlapping feet and I take a deep breath "I'm just tired I guess."

"Tired of what?" the blond questions.

"Of everyone just assuming that I don't have any feelings," I answer. "Do you know what it's like when the only person who never judged you turns around and tells you that you can't talk to them again, ever? And it's all just because everyone thinks that I'm a bad person."

"Honestly?" Kenny replies. "Yes I do." With a great deal of effort I manage to turn around in his parka so that I'm sitting in his lap, resting my arms on his chest I meet his ocean blue eyes with my metallic, grey-ish ones, shooting him a questioning look. "Everyone in town thinks I'm going to end up like my good-for-nothing dad," he clarifies. "Butters' parents threatened to ground him forever unless he promised to never talk to me again."

"Tweek was my best friend," I state, resting my head against his chest.

"Butters was my best friend," he replies, running his fingers through my hair.

"I'm so lonely," I admit, nuzzling into him slightly, inhaling the bizzarely comforting scent of second hand smoke.

"You don't have to be," he argues.

But I'm not paying attention, now that some of my thought are out I can't seem to stop them "No one would really care if I did kill myself," I blurt out.

There are few things that actually manage to surprise me, but Kenny's sudden snap of "Don't ever say that!" is one of them. He sounds so angry, and I can feel him tense beneath me. I'm also not expexcting the hand sliding under my chin, guiding my face up to meet his. However, the thing that really caught me of guard was the feel of his lips capturing mine, and the fact that I found myself kissing back, my eyelids fluttering shut. The kiss is slow and desperate, but it makes my heart thunder against my rib cage all the same.

"I would care," he states firmly when the kiss broke. "You may think that everyone hates you, but I never have. I understand you, probably better than you do yourself, and I would never sit back and watch you throw everything away like that." He brushes his thumb across my cheek, his eyes shimmering with a mix of anger and saddness. "You got that?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply dumbly, reaching up and resting my hand against his. "Kenny?" I guestion.

"Yeah?" he replies, this time in a softer tone.

"I care about you too," I answer, inwardly kicking myself for how awkward and cheesy that sounds.

He chuckles weakly, wrapping his arms around me "Can we be lonely together?" he asks. Ok, so now I don't feel so bad about what I said.

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth "I'd like that."


End file.
